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Friday, June 18, 2010

Oh yes, I went there and likely dated myself severely. But really this is just another one of those random bits of info that never leave my brain. Before you consider it a positive, remember that in order for me to retain all this useless random information it comes at a cost of retaining important information like where I left my keys or the fact that the dogs need to be let out.

A while back when I had but just a wee baby with tiny little feet that wore (and kicked off) tiny little socks, picking them out of the laundry was not a big deal. His lilliputian garments stuck out like a sore thumb in the sea of Mr. Maricucu's and my clothing. At that time I read a tip in some magazine from a mom of several boys. She mentioned using a sharpie drawn dot on the boys' socks to differentiate which belonged to what boy. She started off with one dot for the oldest and as socks made their way down the line of hand me downs she would add another dot for the next child that corresponded to their birth order. Handy for sorting laundry and handy for kid identification. Hmmmm, I thought but then filed it away under tips I likely would never need.

Fast forward to the current day and I find my growing children are outgrowing stuff at a faster clip than before. Also, with different brands fitting more snug or loose than others, their white undershirts had become a minefield of various sizes just for one boy. Then I remembered the tip and brought out the sharpie. One dot each for their birth order and presto, the shirts were easily identified by Mr. Maricucu and the boys. I even did the little girl shirts too although no one would mistake the lacey camisole in 2T for something that would fit anyone else in this household, at least for the next couple of weeks. Then, since I was on a roll and Hanes/Fruit of the Loom insist on labeling their underwear in microtype that wears off the first wash, I took the sharpie to their boxer briefs too. Just another thing to tick off the nonexistant list. I can rest easy now that my 6 year old will no longer come out sporting his 4 year old brother's undershirt like a belly dancer nor the four year old hand holding his brother's boxers around his waist asking me what I did to the laundry.

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About Me

My motto this year - done is better than perfect. I dabble in handicraft, food and parenting but with a twist - I'm a type A with the attention span of a gnat. Just call me Jill of all trades, mistress of none.